


Run Away

by jb_slasher



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Chelsea - Freeform, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-04
Updated: 2005-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:04:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jb_slasher/pseuds/jb_slasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run Away

John admits that he gets jealous oh-so-easily. So of course the one time he gives in to mind games and jealousy is the time when he fucks up, when everything is fucked up. He shouldn't have thought that he could get away with it just because he was the jealous one and because that mattered. Since when had it mattered? All it got him was betrayal that was entirely his own fault. He wants to blame Frank but is unable to.

John won't make Frank come crawling back to him. He knows he's not the only one for Frank, he's not fucking blind. It hurts to know because he loves Frank. And it hurts even more because he knows Frank knows he does. Maybe it was only a matter of time before John finally snapped. Maybe Frank knew and simply took advantage of that bit of information. It's Johnny's turn to crawl now, isn't it? It's Johnny's turn to face the gutters of life and he'll go down that road willingly, almost like he's been waiting for this to happen. He has an excuse for escape and he's more than eager to use that escape. Johnny's weak like that; he isn't as tough as he looks. He tried not to be too sensitive around Frank but he just couldn't help the post-orgasmic "I love yous" that were left unanswered.

The bottle of whiskey is his only friend now. There's no one banging on the door demanding him to open it; "please, Johnny, please open the door"; no, no such thing. He is left in his own privacy, with his misery and his bottle. He keeps drinking steadily until the bottle is empty, then tosses it on the floor. He grins bitterly at the shattered pieces of glass that will press into the soles of his feet in the morning when he tries to find his way to the bathroom. He strips to his briefs and slides between the covers. The sheets feel weird, foreign to his skin. Suddenly he's homesick and cold, shivering even with all that alcohol running through his veins. He could cry but Johnny never cries when he's drunk. He just presses his head to the pillow and wonders how long it's been since the last time he was completely and utterly alone.


End file.
